


Drowning

by longkissgnite



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alluded to finnick x annie but it’s just mentioned only she’s very wishful, Drowning, Earthquakes, Flooding, Mention of beheading, Oh duh it’s an Annie’s games fic that’s kinda crucial huh, i named the district partner Reef since suzanne insist we act like this with names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26012389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longkissgnite/pseuds/longkissgnite
Summary: She had drowned before, but she was rescued then. Now there was no one here to save her, only people who wanted— needed her dead. If she was to survive this time, it would be on her own.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Drowning

⠀⠀Her own breathing. That’s what had scared her so bad that she flinched and hit her head against… against what? She moved, on all fours to crawl from the dark, the dark which she now realized was the hollow bottom of a tree.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Outside, it was dark as well, but she could see the moon; she hoped and wished it was the same moon that she saw back home, that she could still see /something/ from home. She knew she shouldn’t expect so much from the Capitol, but still she did. Just this /one thing/.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Another sharp sound, something girlish. Immediately she was scurrying backwards and hitting her head again. Too late did she realize the sound came from /her/. That for now she was safe, the only thing scaring her was herself.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Safe felt like such a lie, a cruel trick. She /thought/ she’d be safe here. Reef was going to keep her safe. How long ago did he die? It must’ve been hours ago, judging by the moon. It was still /day/ when it happened. When it… when the other careers turned on them. They had formed an alliance in training, they were supposed to be /safe/ together.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀How stupid she was, to believe that safety could exist here— that safety in numbers could exist in a game where there was only one winner.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀But still, it should be /her/ that’s dead. It should’ve been her on the first day in the arena, her first few minutes. But now? She had made it… she didn’t even know how many days. Everything felt like a terrifying blackened blur.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She was doing okay before, holding onto her wits as the other careers picked off people. It was difficult, but if she kept herself busy with simple tasks like finding food and water, they wouldn’t kill her. The tributes from 1 were lethal, but they lacked the skills for the wild. The two from 2 were a bit better equipped, but she was pretty sure that that was just what they learned in training. They all knew how to kill, but they had no clue how to /survive/.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀But then this morning? She was pretty sure it was this morning, that is. A cannon went off, as they kept doing, going off every time she thought they’d finally have some peace. She hated the sound, covering her ears quickly whenever it happened, having Reef pull her hands from her head and elbow her, her cue to act more /normal/ here, to not get them killed. He hadn’t made her stop quickly enough this morning though. She covered her ears, let out a sound of pain from the noise, and that was the last straw for the tributes from 1 and 2.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀They were going to kill her. She wished they had. She was already proving to be the weak link, the thing that’d get them all killed. She wished she’d died in the blood bath. Instead what happened was so /quick/, so sudden and so ruthless that she’s not even sure it was real.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀The boy from 1 took a sword he’d had and pulled it out to kill her. Then Reef was screaming. She was screaming. Then he was dead, his head hitting the ground before his body.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Then the world went dark for Annie Cresta for the second time in her life, a darkness she hoped and wished would go away. She didn’t remember anything after that; she didn’t know if what she remembered was real or a dramatic version a nightmare decided to make feel real. Although she didn’t remember any nightmares happening, just the life, the /death/ in the arena.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀And now she sat, holding herself in a ball inside of a tree, scared of not just her own shadow, but her own breath, scared by the fact she was still alive. She wished she’d die sooner, she wished she had it in her to kill herself. But she didn't even have a weapon, not so much as a knife, and didn't even have anything to do the hangman’s knot with, even if she knew how to tie it.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She had plenty of opportunity to learn how to do it in her district, knot tying was an easily acquired skill. She knew /plenty/ of knots, she simply refused to know the hangman’s. Why would she ever need to know how to commit such a cruel act? It felt ridiculous, wrong. She didn’t need to do anything of the sort. She didn’t need to learn it, to think about it, she didn’t need it at all.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She didn’t have weapons, she didn’t have rope or anything similar, what did she have? She tried to remember if she grabbed anything before running, in their pack she was in charge of carrying small necessities. Nothing crucial, she couldn’t get away if someone tried to kill her (she was fast, and climbing was a skill, but nowhere good enough to save her life). But she had been trusted with small amounts of water, small amounts of food, did she have that now? No, she reached around, tried to feel for something but there was nothing, only herself.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She needed food, she couldn’t survive if she didn’t have food. Not that she wanted to, she felt she didn’t deserve such a luxury, but she needed food nonetheless. It seemed surviving wasn’t really up for debate or her choice. If she was /truly/ meant to die, she would’ve then. She would’ve died when she almost drowned as a little girl.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Then there was a small thump, the sound was so quiet. Why did she cover her ears like it was piercing? She didn’t even know if it was real, nothing outside of her own body felt like it could /possibly/ be real. Oh she was already tired of the feeling, she hoped it would pass soon. Maybe when the sun rose? Things always felt better in the day.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Real or not real, she needed to see. If it wasn’t what was the harm? If it wasn’t real then that was just that, it wasn’t and she can go back into her spot. If it was? Then… then her head had /already/ stopped it’s tricks and she was okay. She needed to be okay, she had to be. If she was meant to live she had to be okay too. It was only /fair/.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She moves out slowly, completely out now, not just her head. It was a parachute, the way it shined in the moonlight was so beautiful. It sparkled, maybe like water if she really concentrated on it. Not that she gave herself that time, instead she was grabbing it, opening the contents and stopping only when she registered what they were.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Bread. From home. Something from home. Something that could mean /hope/.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She picked it up carefully, holding it to her face to take in the scent. It was home, it was all home. The color, the smell, the texture. Flat, she could hold it between both hands and keep it steady, it could keep her steady. And oh, smelling it now she realized how hungry she was. It tasted like home too, she wondered if it was /really/ from home or some perfected recipe in the Capitol.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀There wasn’t time to ponder that too much because suddenly the world started to blur again, the clarity that the bread brought was gone again. She didn’t know what happened first, only that there /was/ an order to them and that moments later there was sound and there was shaking. Thundering despite the clear sky, moving… moving but why? It didn’t make sense, how could it shake? How could the ground shift so harshly that she /fell/.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She didn’t have time to ponder /that/ either, it stopped all too sudden. The sound first, she thinks (although she wasn’t too sure), and then the shaking, then it’s still. It’s still and things are even less clear than they started, clarity feels a million years away.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She doesn’t know anything but that’s she /has/ to get away from there. Was the moving real? It didn’t matter, she had no way to /tell/ so she might as well act on it. Better to believe the lie than ignore it and die. She was /meant/ to survive, that’s why Reef was dead. Was she meant to win? Surely she couldn’t, she had no weapon, no idea how to use one if she /did/ have one. How could she be meant to win? What sort of sick twist of fate was this all?  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She still had her bread, it held it’s form well enough (losing most its fish qualities from what she had eaten and in the fist she held it in, but it was good and that’s what mattered). That was all she had to take with her, nothing else had made it with her when she had fled before she reminded herself. Nothing had to be looked for, she didn’t have to stay back.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀So she ran, and she ran. She didn’t care if she made sounds, so what if someone heard? Then maybe she’d die, and as sure as she was that fate wanted her alive that didn’t stop the pressing /need/ to die.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She thought she got her wish when something hit her in the leg. She didn’t fall, she didn’t even stop, but the pain was piercing. She felt like she could die from that pain and this fear alone. Instead, she kept running, she couldn’t /stop/, even if she wanted to, stopping felt so genuinely impossible. With every movement the pain in her leg grew worse, sharper, and still she /ran/.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Then there was a loud sound, she knew that came first. She knew that /had/ to be real. She reached down and pulled what she now discovered to be an arrow from her thigh, her first /bad/ injury here. She counted that blessing, this was the first bad injury, she was still alive, fate wanted her alive. Those were all blessings, blessings meant she could still have hope.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Whether she wanted to be alive or not, she had to hope for survival. It’s what fate wanted. If she kept telling herself she’d believe it, it’d be real. It had to be real, there was no one to ask if it was not real, so it /must/ be. Once again, to believe it was anything else was to die. Dying defeated the /purpose/. She wasn’t quite sure what her /real/ purpose was here, but it couldn’t be to die.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀The moving came again, so much worse than before, so so much. Before it had made he stumble, now she was crashing to the ground. She must’ve let out a cry from pain, although she couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the world shifting, it only made sense. Her leg hurt so much, maybe /this/ is what dying felt like. No, no she couldn’t think she was dying, that was doubting her hope, that was giving up all she had left.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀The shaking lasted impossibly long, she was sure, and the noises became deafening. Thunders, cracking, waves. Waves? There was no water in the arena that could create a wave. Ponds, streams, but nothing large. How was there a wave? It didn’t matter, that was a sound from home, that meant hope. Maybe this was all a bad dream, maybe she would wake up and be safe at home in bed. Or better, maybe she had just fallen asleep on Finnick’s lap on the beach, he would wake her soon and she’d be safe.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀No, that couldn’t be true. Her and Finnick were fighting before she was reaped. She could hardly remember the reason now, it felt like /so/ long ago. Not quite months, but definitely longer than weeks. They had been fighting so he wouldn’t be holding her as she napped on the beach, so those waves were not sounds creeping into a dream.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Too caught up in her head and she forcibly learned what it was, it was water tumbling from all directions. The earth still moved and shook beneath her but water was coming and she couldn’t /be here/. She had to run again but she couldn’t, not with the injury in her leg, not with the violent trembling of the ground.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She watched as trees were uprooted around her, falling to the same fate she had of being stuck on the ground. She swore she heard ground breaking, like she could fall through, be stuck /in/ the earth. The world felt nightmarish and the water that seemed to move in slow motion was not comforting. Water was from home, water was meant to be good, now it felt like it would be what seals her fate.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀The ground stopped moving just as the water had reached her. It was not salty, it was not safe, it was not from home. There was no hope here, no smell of a breeze, nothing to hold onto. Even her bread was gone now (although she’s not sure she remembers letting go of it).  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀The water engulfed her, and she was drowning. Surely she would die now, drowning had almost gotten her before, now had to be the time. Curse her instincts for making her kick, making her reach the surface.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Before she broke the surface though she (stupidly) tried to scream, filling her lungs with water. That should’ve scared her, but instead it made her feel solid, it made her whole being feel /proper/. She wasn’t meant to get air, she was meant to stay below the water’s surface and be so absorbed in it she may as well be a sponge. She didn’t even know if her body was flailing anymore, or if it had accepted this blissful peace water brought.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀All too soon she broke the surface, all too soon she coughed and choked and was breathing air again. The air burned her throat, her lungs, she wanted to go back under, she wanted to let the water consume her. What did fate matter? She belonged in the water. It had wanted her before, it came to finish the job now.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Before… before when she was thirteen, just weeks before her second reaping. Oh how happy she had been that day, what peace she had had before she fell.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She sang a song her father had /just/ taught her that day, loud and clear, excited to share the melody with the world. She didn’t quite know all the words yet, over dinner she would ask Natalia to tell her them again.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She danced to the song. Spinning, twirling, her arms above her head waving at nothing, hoping every few beats. A new melody meant a new way to move, this song wasn’t as bitter as other songs she knew, this one had simply been about the sea, no pesky sailors or cruel sirens, simply the sea. Simply the sea meant she could move as carefree as she wished, just as the sea itself did.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Then she had fallen, she was dancing too close to the edge of the boat, she should’ve been more aware she /knows/ this now. But she just wanted to be like the water, if only she had known how to exist in it. Instead she was stupid, a stupid little girl, too in her head to be trusted alone (as her sister had been sure to say).  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She has forced her weight /down/ wanting to reach the bottom, to get her footing, but there was nothing, the ground was too far and suddenly so was the surface. Suddenly she was floating, solid, whole, how she was born to be she thought.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Then the world went dark for Annie Cresta for the first time in her life. She didn’t know how long she had been under water, how long she had been so truly whole. She didn’t want that darkness to stop, she wasn’t conscious and yet it was so peaceful. Yet she was /so/ happy in it, solid.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Then she was spitting up in someone’s face, oh no, it was Finnick’s. Oh how /foolish/ he must’ve thought she was. A simple minded little girl nearly killing herself over impractical games. It was a wonder he didn’t think so poorly of her then, that he somehow still didn’t now.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀He didn’t think badly of her then though, he instead held her, wrapped her shivering form in something (looking back, it was an old patch net, but he tried and that meant so much to her). He whispered things to her, told her how she was okay, she was alive (he never took credit for it, but he was the reason for it), and most importantly she was there with /him/.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She could’ve fallen asleep there, but he didn’t let her. She thinks now he was worried to let her drift off was to let her slip, was losing her. Instead he asked her questions about what she had sang, listened to her gently (and hoarsely) tell him about the sea, how wonderful it sounded in the song.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Then her parents were there, her father picking her up and freeing her from the net. Laughing good naturedly at the little boy. “It seems you managed quite a catch today.” She remembered, and she did because bold and confident Finnick Odair had given a sheepish reply of “yes sir,” a moment later than a reply was due. Like he was embarrassed, or wasn’t quite sure it was a joke. It made Annie giggle, to see his ego falter had always been amusing to her, she knew he wasn’t as sure of himself as he seemed, she liked to be proved right.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She curled up in her father's arms, fell asleep before they even reached their house. The next day she saw a doctor to check her lungs, she wasn’t to go on anymore fishing trips until she learned to swim, she wasn’t to go to the docks or beach alone anymore.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀All in all, that was a good day, a happy day. Now who would pull her from the water? Who would breathe air in to her lungs again (even if they were working, she was sure they could give out). Who would hold her? Whisper to her and be sure she knows she is safe?  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀No one, because then they’d be lying. Safety didn’t exist in the arena, even while alone.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Eventually, apparently, she found a steady rhythm with her swimming. Her injury in her leg seemed to clean itself. The blood surrounding her for quite some time before it finally disappeared. She was able to stay afloat despite her wish to do otherwise.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She wasn’t sure how long she had already been swimming, but she was sure she heard cannons. She didn’t know how many, maybe three since the earth shook? She should’ve been counting, if she wasn’t so in her head. But now she was certain others were going off.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀The sun rose, and she was left with her thoughts. It was easier to think in the sunlight, it was easier to exist. Finnick had compared her to the sun before, she wondered if that made him the moon. She’d like him to be her something, something as important as the moon.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Was she swimming now or floating? She didn’t know.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀He had taught her how to swim shortly after he had won the games himself. Annie had gone over to his (new) house asking to see him, not having done so since she had gone to say goodbye. Natalia insisted on giving him space, saying the games were hard, saying he would need time to get used to the Victor's Village. Annie /had/ behaved, she didn’t bother him for almost /three/ whole weeks, and then was on his doorstep.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She convinced his grandma to let him come to the beach and pulled him there, doing her best to ignore the lost look in his eyes. She didn’t like it, it wasn’t /him/. Her sister insisted some people changed after the games, but how much could they really? He had to still be the same Finnick.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀”I told my parents you promised to teach me how to swim,” he hadn’t, they had barely spoken since he saved her. Only a few times at the docks, and then when she said goodbye. He was happy at the docks, he teased her about falling in, but not mean like the kids at school teased her, it was silly, it was like they were /friends/. He was happy when she said goodbye too, sure of himself as ever, now she wondered how much of that was faked.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀At the lie he seemed a bit shocked, asked her why she’d say that. “Because you saved me, it’s only fair you teach me.” Her logic /had/ to be flawless. It seemed to be, he agreed, that was good enough.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀He held her hand as they went into the low tide, the water to her ankles, to her knees. She felt safe now, she felt solid with his grip and the water around her. That must’ve been peace, that must been what it was like to feel /okay/.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Up to her waist and her skirt was entirely drenched, moving around her body. She missed her skirts, she hated pants. She hated shirts. She hated how restricted things felt now, how she was so tight she might snap.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She couldn’t remember what happened next, did he hold her more in the water? Let her float? How much of it was memory and how much of it was desperate daydreams?  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Another cannon, this is what her reality was. Tracking cannons, except she had forgotten to keep an Initial tally, it had been Reef counting before. So… so however many went off, now another, those were more lives taken. She couldn’t even cover her ears now, she wished she could. The sound of the thundering still echoed, although she was sure it was long gone.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Sooner than she expected, nightfall came. The anthem began and soon there were faces in the sky. The other careers, a girl from 6, a boy from 10, and that was all. How many were left? Who was left to die? Was it her?  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She hated the relief she felt seeing the boy from 1 up there. How cruel of her, she was just as bad as him. No life taken by her, but it should’ve been her that had been killed. Still, she felt relief, safety, knowing he was dead. Awful, horrible. That wasn’t kind, he had been her age. How could she be so /mean/?  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀The faces left, the sky darkened, she swam (or floated).  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Two more cannons in the night, one more at dawn.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀The one at dawn marking the loss of life was her savior. That was the end, applause filled her ears, cheers. Was Finnick’s in there? A hovercraft, a claw, oh it was wretched looking.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀The world went dark for Annie Cresta for the third time in her life. She was lifted into the hovercraft and everything was gone. It wasn’t the same peaceful sleep in her father's arms, the peaceful darkness drowning had once brought her, it was suffocating. She wasn’t conscious, and that’s why it was so nightmarish.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Would it always be this dark? Would it always feel this unreal?


End file.
